


Active Imagination

by rowdyhooligan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crowley's less than PG imagination, F/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 13:30:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16873758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowdyhooligan/pseuds/rowdyhooligan
Summary: Holding court in Hell can get extremely tedious, leading Crowley’s mind free to wander.





	Active Imagination

**Author's Note:**

> cross-posted from tumblr: requested by anon: Hello Becky! I was thinking Crowley seating on his throne while the demons talk to him about hell stuff, but he doesn’t listen to them because he’s fantasising about the reader, who is the Winchester’s sister or Bobby’s daughter (you choose) thank you!!

There was a certain irony in the King of Hell pleading for divine intervention, but Heaven help him this meeting was tedious. If he had to listen to one more demon prattle on about exceeding quotas on Wall Street, he was going to eviscerate someone. Sealing deals on Wall Street was like taking candy from a baby- did they expect a pat on the back?

His wandering attention was caught by a sudden buzzing in his pocket. Fishing his phone out, ‘Kitten’ flashed across the screen in bright, bold letters. A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips as he answered the call, cutting off the hapless demon still going over strategies to increase their numbers further still. “Hello, Kitten. Fancy hearing from you- to what do I owe the honor?”

“Hey, Crowley, quick question for you- you don’t happen to have any hellhounds out collecting souls in San Francisco do you?”

He frowned thoughtfully. “Not at the moment, love. Why do you ask?”

There was a shuffling sound on the other end of the line, a muffled “He says there aren’t any hellhounds around here…I told you so!” coming through. Crowley chuckled to himself, unable to keep the smile off of his face at your smug tone. The demons assembled in the throne room shifted in place uneasily at the sight, but he paid them no mind, focusing instead on the murmuring voices coming through the receiver. 

There was more shuffling on the other end, followed by, “Thanks Crowley. The guys and I are working a case in California, and they didn’t believe me when I said it looks like it could be a black dog. They think it’s a hellhound, but I told them my dad didn’t raise a damn fool and I know what signs to look for with hellhounds. Maybe this’ll teach these idjits not to doubt me.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that, Kitten- they don’t seem to learn very easily,” he teased.

“Tell me about it,” you scoffed in mock annoyance. “So, what are you up to?”

“Nothing of import, just crunching the latest numbers,” he replied, ignoring the indignant mutterings of the demons gathered before him.

“Sounds exhilarating,” you said, sarcasm heavy in your tone.

“Hardly,” Crowley snorted, “it’s all dreadfully dull, I’m afraid. Your phone call was just what I needed to stave off utter boredom.”

“Glad to be of service,” you chuckled, his smile growing at your laughter. He’d be loathe to admit it to anyone, but your laughter was swiftly becoming one of his favorite sounds, bright and infectious and capable of cheering up even the dullest day. “Maybe you can play hooky from court and stop by once the case is done.”

“Tempting, Kitten…you know how I do love our time together.”

“Really?” you teased right back. “Then maybe you should come by a little more often; I feel like it’s been ages since you visited.”

“Alas, the duties of ruling have kept me rather busy I’m afraid.”

“Then I’ll let you get back to it,” you said with a hint of disappointment.

“Of course,” he added hastily, “all work and no play makes for a very dull boy, and I’ve never been accused of being dull. Hell can go a day or two without its king.”

“Great,” you replied warmly, “so I’ll see you later?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, darling.”

Ending the call, he wasn’t aware of the besotted smile on his face until the muttering demons caught his eye. Grin falling away, he scowled at them. “Did I tell you to stop?”

Snapping to attention, the long-winded crossroads demon picked up where he left off, his yammering quickly losing Crowley’s interest once more. Mind wandering back to your phone conversation, a sense of anticipation went through him. It had been quite some time since he’d last seen you, and never as long as he would wish. The Winchesters kept you under constant guard whenever he was around, distrustful of his interest in you. Honestly, they were almost as bad as your adoptive father had been, and Bobby Singer was well known for his protective streak.

Oh, but what he would give for some time alone with you, a chance to really get to know you without an audience hovering around. Who knew where it could lead- perhaps you’d agree to even more time spent together. You had always been open to his advances, flirting right back anytime you were in the same room together. He didn’t think he was too off the mark in believing you were just as interested in him as he was in you. A little music, a little dancing…the places he could take you, the things he could show you…he’d show you the very world, anywhere you wanted. He would wine and dine you, pamper you as you ought to be.

And if you were feeling particularly kindly towards him…well, he certainly wouldn’t object to that. Just the thought of your kiss, your touch, was enough to set even his blackened and shriveled heart racing. To have those rough hands, calloused from years of hunting, running over his skin, working him until he craved release, sent a sinful pulse of delight through him. It sounded almost as tempting as trailing his own hands along your body, caressing every curve, tracing every scar.

He shifted discretely on his throne, trying to alleviate the growing pressure in his trousers. And wasn’t that an alluring thought: you, astride him on the throne, the delectable heat of your center notched tight against his cock. Or maybe he’d have you seated on his lap, the soft, sweet curve of your ass pressed tight to his groin as your warmth and scent curled around him. No doubt you’d wriggle in place, teasing him until he ached for you.

Would you show mercy and relieve his distress? Perhaps go down on your knees, kneeling between his legs while he sat on the throne, that sweet mouth sucking him dry. The thought of that warm, wet heat wrapped around his cock, your moans echoing throughout the room, made his balls tighten. There was no doubt in his mind that you could use that clever tongue of yours in ways that would shock your adoptive brothers and dearly departed father.

Or he could drape your legs over the arms of his throne and bury his face in your pussy. He’d be lying if he claimed to never have thought of it before; how delectable you would taste, the tang of your arousal heavy on his tongue. Crowley was not a demon to show subservience to anyone, but for you, he would gladly get on his knees. He would worship you with his mouth until you were pleading for release. Then- and only then- would he take your clit between his lips to give you what you craved.

Maybe he’d take you right then and there. Just strip you down to nothing, leaving you bare to him right there in the throne room where any passing demon could see. Would you allow him that, such a shameless display of eroticism and sin? Allow him to bury himself deep inside your slick cunt and let you ride him until he brought you to ecstasy, his name falling from your lips for all of Hell to hear as witness.

Or would that all too human modesty get the better of you? Perhaps you would balk at such a public display, preferring to keep your privacy, something that was perfectly acceptable to him as well. The idea of showing you off- of letting everyone see what they could never have- was certainly tantalizing. But he would be the first to admit he could be a jealous man; should you ever agree to be his, he couldn’t promise he wouldn’t gouge out the eyes of any demon who saw you naked. It was an interesting dilemma, this fierce possessiveness.

A timid voice broke through his reverie. “Sir?” 

Jolted from his fantasies, Crowley straightened, keenly aware of the uncomfortable silence filling the room. Shifting in his seat, he tried to subtly rearrange himself- a task made more difficult by his hard cock. Simply thinking of all the fun you could have together was enough to get him erect, as evidenced by the tent forming in his trousers. The peons assembled before him made it a point to look anywhere else, shuffling awkwardly in place.

“Just leave, all of you,” he growled out, waving a dismissive hand. They scurried to obey, already muttering amongst themselves.

Waiting until the room cleared, Crowley stood, rolling the kinks from his neck and smoothing down his tie. Making his way to his chambers-hampered slightly by his erection- he resolved to ‘take matters in hand’, so to speak, before heading out to see you this evening. By God, this tiptoeing around each other ended tonight. Because any woman who could make him hard just imagining her…well, such a woman was rare indeed, and he wasn’t about to let you slip through his fingers.

In the privacy of his own rooms, a hand wrapped around his cock, he lost himself in his daydreams once more, pumping away and picturing your face the whole time. And when he came, it was with your name on his lips, a guttural groan of relief and a desire for more. As he cleaned himself up, a stray thought crossed his mind: if he was to successfully woo you, he really needed to get a grip on his rather active imagination.


End file.
